


a conversation under the clouds

by magma_maiden



Category: Naruto
Genre: Cisswap, F/M, Female Senju Hashirama, Genderbending, cisbent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21849178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magma_maiden/pseuds/magma_maiden
Summary: “Since when?”When that question was thrown at her, she was speechless.Since when did she think to have a family with him, as if a shinobi could watch their children grow old before war snatch them away?
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 5
Kudos: 45





	a conversation under the clouds

**Author's Note:**

> naruto (c) masashi kishimoto; no financial profit taken from this fic
> 
> birthday fic for madara

“What were you thinking?”

Madara’s angry voice boomed in the entire room, shocking the healers and the sick people they treated. After a hasty scolding from the head healer, both him and the Hokage—still wrapped in fur blanket—were ushered out. Hashirama led him to a quiet corner in the inner yard. Snow was still falling from the cloudy sky.

She gathered the blanket so it hid half of her face, shielding herself from his rage. “It was safe, alright?”

“It wasn’t!” Madara threw his arms in frustration. “It was a fucking blizzard, and you brought a man nearly to death, Hashirama. Your mokujin might be useful in battle, but going through a blizzard for a whole day and night—” He growled. “Why couldn’t you just wait with your entourage?”

“He… he didn’t die, though…?”

“There are a thousand ways you both could die in the blizzard, Hashirama, just because you were lucky in navigating the treacherous terrain…” Madara massaged his forehead. “Forget it. Just don’t forget to give him a proper lodging and escort back home.”

Before he could go, Hashirama caught the rim of his coat. Yet as his face looked back at her, she was speechless. Whatever she had in mind melted under his burning stare.

“What?”

Hashirama shook her head, then ran to return the blanket.

Really, she thought he’d be happy seeing her home earlier than planned...

* * *

The blizzard she passed continued for the next three days and nights, completely blocking the roads to Konoha. Hashirama sent the outgoing teams before the last road was totally impassable, yet she couldn’t help but notice a name she expected to go was missing from the assigned list. Said name never stayed longer than a week in the village, always taking whatever mission popped up next…

A conversation in one autumn night crossed her mind. He took a long term mission afterwards, so they had no chance to continue what they talked about before. Hashirama was invited to meet a fellow kage before he returned, prompting her to brace the blizzard with her mokujin to return home.

But their next conversation was him being angry at her.

Hashirama stacked the papers on her desk and slammed her forehead on them. Time marches on for long until a voice shattered her peaceful silence.

“Are you unwell?”

Madara’s concerned face looked down on her. Hashirama blinked, then grinned. In return, his eyes turned wide and he disappeared, bringing a healer with him in a blink of an eye. Said healer did a little examination on her, before declaring she’s down with a fever and needed proper rest with regular check-ups.

“Why are we here?” Hashirama asked with a sleepy voice, having drank the medicine brought for her. “My room was next… office.”

“I don’t trust anyone else to treat you,” Madara said, unwrapping his haori from her body which he used to warm her as he carried her leaping from roof to roof, “someone got to keep an eye on you when your brother is away.”

“But this… your house.”

Madara shrugged. “Warmest in the entire country.”

This was their first conversation after Hashirama left him at the hospital yard. Obviously, she hadn’t forgotten his outburst.

“...It’s still cold.” The hearth wasn’t enough to warm her. It felt like the cold could enter through the glass windows of his home.

“How about now?” Madara sat behind her, pulling her closer to his chest. His arms joined hers under her blanketed belly.

She tried to speak, but a cough drowned her voice. Madara shifted away, as if going to release her.

“No—stay.”

“I don’t intend to let you leave until spring.” He nuzzled her head.

“My work—”

“No work until the snow melts.”

“You can at least let me stay in my place.”

“No.”

Hashirama resigned with a whine.

“Didn’t I told you that night?” he whispered, so close to her ear, “I want to be here. It’s a hassle going through the snow just to see you sick there. This is a better option.”

From the way she relaxed in his embrace, it’s clear she was agreeing with him too. But still…

“The man you brought,” he started, still holding her close, “has been going around Konoha with his funny equipment. Said he’s taking pictures for you, in exchange for letting him stay here.”

“...That is correct.” Hashirama held his hands. “You usually take a long winter mission around this time, so…”

“You want a picture of mine.”

“With me.”

Madara snorted.

“Don’t laugh...”

“I’m not, I’m just surprised. Honest,” Madara assured, “just… we’re shinobi. A picture could endanger a shinobi’s safety.”

Hashirama caressed his cheek. “We’re the most dangerous shinobi in the Fire Country, if not the whole world.”

“Even the most dangerous shinobi has weaker people around them.” Madara took her hand, and kissed her palm. “Like children.”

She blinked, then slowly shifted away to turn around so they faced each other.

“...Have you been,” she began, hesitating to see his reaction, “thinking about it?”

“Hm?”

“Family. Children. To see them reach adulthood in a more peaceful world...”

“So you’ve been thinking about it, huh?”

Hashirama nodded.

Madara gave her a devilish grin. “Since when?”

When that question was thrown at her, she was speechless.

Since when did she think to have a family with him, as if a shinobi could watch their children grow old before war snatch them away?

“Mm…” She beamed. “Maybe since around last autumn.”

Because at that time, peace was no longer a mere idea.

Madara leaned forward, staring deeply into her eyes. Then, he reached to her cheek and pinched it.

“...Wha’s zat for?”

There was no reply. Hashirama squinted at him. “Don’t you want to know when I started falling for you?”

He straightened his back. “Now you have my attention.”

She raised a finger. “I’d like to have our picture first.”

* * *

Days later, the man Hashirama brought was escorted to his next destination. He left behind a blueprint of his device, many ‘negatives’, a brief guide of his work, and numerous pictures—photos, he called them—of Konoha and its inhabitants.

The Hokage held a framed photo against the cloudy sky, it depicted herself with the man she vowed to spend the rest of her life together. In it, she wore a black kimono, embroidered with the Uchiha crest, with him in a similar attire.

“So.” Madara hugged her from behind, nuzzling her head. “Since when?”

Hashirama glanced aside, letting out a sheepish chuckle. “I forget.”

His laughter echoed in her office. “Same!”

“And that is why,” Hashirama said, turning around to place the picture on her desk, “it feels I’ve been falling for you since forever ago.”

Madara embraced her again, kissing her hair. For the first time in her life, happiness grew within her, nurtured with peace and promising prosperity in the future.

“Me too, Hashirama.”


End file.
